


I want You to call Me Husband

by kikabennet



Series: Raising Yevgeny Milkovich [17]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Everything's better, Gallavich lives, Husbands, M/M, Married Life, Season 6 was all a dream, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikabennet/pseuds/kikabennet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very early part of the "Raising Yevgeny Milkovich" series, but you don't really have to know anything about the rest to get this. Basically after the trainwreck that was the end of season 5, Ian tried to break up with Mickey but married him instead and this is the start of their official married life together. Just domestic wonderful fluff. And sex. And realistic relationship stuff. But mostly Gallavich happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want You to call Me Husband

It was one of those perfect mornings where neither of them had to be anywhere. Rarely did Ian and Mickey have an off day together, but this Saturday morning-Ian didn't have school, Mickey didn't have work. It was Svetlana's start of four days to keep their infant son, Yevgeny, so when the sun began to stream through the cheap blinds of their apartment bedroom window, they roused but made no effort to get up.

Ian rolled onto his back, blinking heavily and slowly. Once he was up, he was up, and soon would drag himself out of bed to eat breakfast and take his meds. Maybe go to the gym or go for a run. He turned his head to stare at Mickey, who was snoring loudly-Mickey had a bad snoring problem that when they first began sleeping together, actually _sleeping_ together, Ian didn't know if he'd ever get used to it. Now it soothed him just like the box fan they slept with that hummed loudly.

“Time is it?” Mickey slurred, eyes still closed as he shifted slightly.

“A little after seven,” Ian said, running his hand through Mickey's hair from neck to crown. “You gonna get up with me?”

“No,” Mickey replied simply, eyes not opening.

Ian pulled the covers over both of them and then farted loudly. Mickey got up then, real quick, and smacked Ian repeatedly as he wriggled out from under the blankets.

“Ow!” Ian laughed.

“That's so gross!” Mickey couldn't help but laugh too. He held the edge of the covers over his mouth and nose. “Fucking stinks, Ian!”

Ian just laughed harder, and climbed out of bed, shrugging on some pajama bottoms. He smelled the air and coughed, covering his own mouth.

“Can't believe you still do that shit,” Mickey said.

“It was funny,” Ian replied, shrugging one shoulder. “Hey, I forgot to ask you, did you pay the electric bill or do I need to pay it?”

“I paid it,” Mickey said. “Why? We get a late fee or something?”

“No, I just needed to know how many money orders to drop off at the office this morning,” Ian told him. “I think I'm gonna go for a run.”

He climbed back onto the bed and hit Mickey playfully on the shoulder.

“Come with me,” he coaxed. “It's nice outside.”

“Fine.” Mickey said, and Ian pulled him up and off of the bed.

They dressed and washed their faces and brushed their teeth, and then Ian made them both a quick breakfast of butter and jam toast. Ian took his meds first before sitting down at the kitchen bar to eat his toast.

“What do you wanna do tonight since we don't have work?” Ian asked. “Wanna go out?”

“Where?” Mickey asked.

He and Ian really didn't 'go out'. They went to eat and to the movies every once in a while, but they didn't have any mutual friends or anything. Very rarely, they would go shoot hoops down on the court at the park, but Mickey was terrible to play basketball with because he was so angry and short. Lip was better to do that with because he was short, but pretty lax about losing.

Ian shrugged. “Movies?”

“What's out right now?” Mickey asked.

“New Star Wars is out,” Ian said. “We could go see that.”

Mickey started to throw the last few pieces of his toast away, but Ian took them and ate them. After setting their plates on the counter, they left the apartment to go run. The apartment complex was in a very rundown part of South Side, but also very close to downtown so they dead in the middle of Chicago's ghetto and Chicago's chic and upscale, literally separated by a chain length fence that blocked the parking lot of their complex.

The two of them walked out of the entrance and immediately hit the sidewalk that turned into block after block of busy downtown. Ian wanted to take Yevgeny running too, when he got old enough. With all of the crosswalk stops, the jogging stroller just wasn't practical. As they jogged, Mickey continuously falling behind because Ian was in much better shape, they talked about school and work and family. Ian talked about his classes-he was in college now, like Lip, and his goal was to teach. He wanted to teach ROTC since the military was out of the question now. Mickey, who'd just gotten hired as a mechanic helper at the local plant, talked about his job and how some of the workers who'd come from upper middle class families were such pussies about real work. Then of course they both had big families so the talk of siblings and useless parents was endless.

When they got back home, they were both sweaty and smelly. Ian wiped his face on his already damp t-shirt and then stripped out of it. He smelled his armpits and said, “I'm gonna take a shower. Wanna join me?”

“Yeah.” Mickey took his shirt off too. He was skinny, but little and skinny-not toned and skinny like Ian.

The two of them fully stripped in the bathroom and Ian started the shower. Once inside, they soaped up and rinsed and washed their hair. Mickey complained about it, but he secretly loved it when Ian washed his hair, but today, sexy shower times wasn't on the agenda, apparently, because Ian just passed him the shampoo.

Once they were out and headed to the bedroom to dry off and dress, Ian dropped in front of Mickey, gripping him by the thighs.

“How come you didn't ask me to wash your hair?” He asked, looking up at his husband, soaking wet.

“How come you didn't offer?” Mickey countered.

Ian grinned and began to suck him right then and there. Mickey put a hand on his head and pushed him back.

“Can we take this to the bed?” He asked quickly, hoping it would lead to full sex, not just a blow job.

Ian nodded and they both scrambled onto the bed.

They didn't really talk a lot during sex or do the whole 'oh, you're so tight' or 'you feel so good' or even 'I love you'. Mostly they just grunted and groaned and said 'fuck' a lot. Both of them preferred it that way.

After sex, which felt amazing after a shower for some reason-maybe the freshness or something, Mickey sat up and smiled down at Ian, who didn't move, but moved his eyes to meet Mickey's.

“You know we've been married for two weeks now, right?” Mickey reminded him.

Ian smiled a little, still not moving.

“I can't wait until we can afford rings,” he said. “I know that sounds fucking girly-”

“No.” Mickey leaned down to kiss him, slow and lovingly. “It doesn't. Fucktard.”

“Did you just call me 'fucktart'?” Ian asked, grinning through their slow, wet kisses. “Like a poptart?”

“I said fuck TARD,” Mickey said, secretly wishing he'd thought of fucktart. He kind of liked that.

“Oh.” Ian kissed him again, finally moving to get in a better position to access different parts of Mickey's mouth, face, and neck.

“Want me to call you fucktart?” Mickey asked.

“I want you to call me husband,” Ian said.

Mickey snorted.

“Who calls their spouse by their title?” He asked. “ 'Hey, Husband. What's the weather supposed to be like tomorrow'?”

“Call me spouse,” Ian kept going with the joke. “Or life partner.”

Mickey didn't know if he really and truly believed in 'true' love, but if it was a real thing, he and Ian had it. After being together this long, through everything they had been through as a couple (and he secretly considered them a couple longer than Ian did), he still loved Ian every second they were together and missed him every moment they weren't. He loved everything about Ian-even the stupid bipolar disease. He loved how Ian (without meaning to) stared way too intently at people who were talking to him. He loved how he loved to play with Mickey's hands idly when they cuddled up on the couch together. He loved that Ian had one crooked toe that he always teased himself about. He loved how he was the passionate, sensitive and vulnerable one in every way until it came to sex, and then he was dominant and confident and that allowed Mickey to finally let someone else take care of him, and let him be vulnerable for a change.

Ian did believe in true love, and if anyone asked him what it was, he would say he wished he could show them his life through his own eyes because Mickey Milkovich was true love. Ian loved everything about Mickey, and he was sure it had been from the moment he looked up at him when Mickey had taken the tire iron from him. Ian had spent a long time pining after Mickey, but it was because a part of him just knew Mickey was his other half. He didn't see the aggressive side of Mickey as a bully like most did. He saw the aggression as protectiveness, caring, even vulnerable at times. He loved how Mickey grounded him in his most trying times-when his medication needed to be adjusted and he went through short bursts of bipolar Hell. Mickey never let Ian pity himself or acted like he was fragile. Ian loved how Mickey stared at him all the time, shamelessly without caring. He loved how Mickey was smaller than himself, but he still saw Mickey as some big protector. He loved how Mickey smelled. God, did he love that smell. There was no real way to describe it. It was sweaty and earthy and not at all fragrant, but Ian wanted to just smell it forever.

They eventually redressed and spent the day watching TV and doing laundry and just goofing around. In the late afternoon, both were getting cabin fever-Ian worse than Mickey, so they looked up show times for the new Star Wars film and decided to do dinner and a movie.

“So where do you wanna eat?” Mickey asked as they climbed into the piece of shit car they shared.

“Let's eat pizza,” Ian said.

Pizza was something they both easily agreed on and there was a delicious pizzeria right two blocks from their apartment. It was cold outside, much colder in the late afternoon than in the morning, so from the car to the pizza place, they were shivering almost.

The restaurant was warm and packed as usual, and they went up to the counter to place their order.

“The usual?” The girl with the blonde ponytail and fake eyelashes asked, grinning at them.

“Yes, please,” Mickey said. He and Ian liked her. She was always so nice.

“One anchovie, green pepper and sausage!” She called out as she took Mickey's debit card.

Once they found a high table with bar stools to sit at near the fancy looking little fire heater, they shrugged themselves out of their coats and put them in their lap. One of the employees brought their pizza on a stand and took their number and set a bottle of oil on the table which Ian promptly took and drizzled on their pie. They dug into the pizza, the cheese so hot and melty it dripped down.

“I wish we weren't going to the movies,” Ian said, licking his fingers. “We could take the leftovers home and eat it for breakfast.”

“It's cold enough.” Mickey shrugged. “It's not like in July when you got food poisoning from leaving that Chinese food in the car.”

Ian grinned sheepishly through his slice.

“That was stupid of me,” he admitted.

“That was real fuckin' stupid of you,” Mickey agreed, and they both chuckled, remembering how Ian and been throwing up all day. He'd thrown up so hard it had come out of his nose. Mickey had asked him if he could throw up more quietly because he had to be at work in two hours.

After they boxed up their pizza in one of the self-grab to-go boxes, they headed for the movie theater. Despite his size, Ian could eat a lot, and at the movies he got himself a giant soda and a box of mini Butterfingers. Mickey didn't get anything. He would just eat and drink off of Ian's snacks.

The movie really was good, even though the two of them didn't know much about Star Wars, and when they got home, it was already close to midnight.

“You work tomorrow?” Mickey asked Ian.

“Yeah, but not until four,” Ian said, stripping out of his clothes.

“So we can stay up kind of late?” Mickey asked, his eyebrows arched. “I was hoping we could break some of the toys out.”

Ian grinned and said, “Yeah, we can break some of the toys out.”

He unbuttoned Mickey's pants and said as he slid them down, “But only if we can use them on both of us.”

“Wait.” Mickey petted Ian's hair as Ian got down to his knees and breathed into the crotch of Mickey's boxer briefs. “You want me to...”

“Well, if we're gonna be up late,” Ian said, staring up at him with his big beautiful gray/blue eyes. “Yeah, I'll take a round on bottom.”

“Okay, then.” Mickey shrugged. Helping Ian to help him out of his clothes.

“Mickey?” Ian stopped in mid undress.

“What?”

“I know it's gonna sound fucking cheesy right now, but I feel like I don't say it enough and I love you and I'm glad we got married,” Ian said in one breath.

“Fucktart.” Mickey kissed him on the lips, short and chaste. “I love you more.”

“We'll see.” Ian grinned and they continued to strip each other.

 

 


End file.
